


Green Green Man

by Ambrosia_Ragweed



Category: Grimm (TV)
Genre: Character Death, Dubious Consent, Explicit Language, M/M, Miscarriage, Recreational Drug Use, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-06-13
Updated: 2012-06-13
Packaged: 2017-11-07 16:17:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/433073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ambrosia_Ragweed/pseuds/Ambrosia_Ragweed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A play on the traditional American folk tale, The Gingerbread Boy. I wrote this in response to a prompt at Grimm Kink and was heavily inspired by the song Boom Draw by Julian Marley.The chapter titles are lines from the song. I ended up writing it like it was an episode, I didn't intend for the original character to play such a prominant role. This work was finished before Woman In Black aired. I've tried to fix the worse of the formating errors. I appreciate all feedback, even constructive criticism. Enjoy.</p><p>http://grimm-kink.dreamwidth.org/3689.html?thread=1639529#cmt1639529</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Oh, run, run, run as fast as you can

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank Griffin is lost in a dream world with a strange guide.

After Midnight Sunday

Hank Griffin stood on the rooftop overlooking Paris; actually it was someone’s dream of Paris not the real thing at all, watching the sunset behind the Eifel tower.

Hank had no idea how long he’d been in the coma. Time passed differently now. Sometimes minutes lasted eternities. Sometimes he blacked out and time skipped forward. He knew he was growing weaker. When he looked down at his hand, if he stared long enough, the molecules seem to vibrate then disperse.

He was tired of the numb, the tingling Novocain of an emotional lobotomy, as though his ability to feel had been ripped out of him. The only emotion left, only it wasn’t really an emotion at all, was an intense drive to solve the case that had led to this situation. But the more he learned, the less he actually wanted to know, because his world was slowly imploding.

He turned his head slightly at the sounds of footsteps as someone jumped up on the ledge beside him.

“You know, if you fall, you probably will die for real.” Oran scooted forward and looked over the edge. “It’s a long way down.” He tipped his head sideways to smile enigmatically at Hank. His dreads were tucked up into a green wool tam and his white wife beater glowed a little in the orange sun’s light. The army fatigue pants were too large and fell loosely from his narrow hips. He had the legs rolled up above his ankles. Everything about Oran was freaky in the dream world. His pale white-dwarf blue eyes glowed deathly hot like the blue tip of a candle flame. Hank wouldn’t swear on It but he was pretty sure that they were brown in real life. The blue crowned lion tattooed on Oran’s right arm roared quietly at Hank. The Star of David behind the lion shimmered. “What are you doing here anyways?”

“Waiting for whoever is dreaming to wake up.” Hank shook his head. There was no way he was going to admit to Oran that he had grown disoriented and lost in the dreamscape when he was trying to track the Rastafari.“Damn, usually just my entering a dream wakes a person up. How do you handle this?”

“I warned you about getting lost. Why don’t you go back to your body already?” Oran repeated the same thing he said every time he checked up on Hank which he did pretty regularly. 

Hank shoved his hands into his coat pockets. “You wouldn’t believe some of the fucked up shit I’ve seen.” 

“The human mind is a dark place.” Oran answered. “Besides you’re in a hospital.” Oran liked to give half answers as if they explained everything, which they never did. Like his advice for Hank to go back to his body. He never explained how; he assumed Hank would figure it out. “You were a cop; fucked up must’ve been your normal.” 

“Why are you still here? Shouldn’t you have left town by now?” Hank asked because he kept trying to understand why Oran did the things he did. If Oran wanted, he could turn this dream into anything he wanted but he followed a strict policy of non intervention. Yet on the other hand Oran did some fucked up shit.

“You want out?” Oran grabbed his shoulder and suddenly they were back in hospital staring at Hank’s body. He shot Hank a look that said “go on, just do it”. 

Hank still had things to do so they stood there silent for a minute or two.

“Were you thinking of jumping?” Oran asked.

Hank looked at him blankly. 

“From that roof? I just wondered if you were tired.” He gestured towards the bed. “Of everything. I’m going to jump to a conclusion here and guess that you became a cop because you wanted to make the world a better place; doesn’t it bother you that everything always stays the same no matter how hard you try to change things?” Before Hank could answer, Oran’s raised his hand in a half wave. “I gotta leave. Here’s your chance. Go.” Then the dread head was gone. 

 


	2. You can't catch me I'm the green, green man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank realizes that he is in a coma.

Last Friday Night/Saturday Morning

Hank dreamed or at first he thought he was dreaming. He was crushed by an unseen weight in a dark room. Around him, above him, and below him were hundreds of doors. He simply knew that they were there. Some, those closest to him, vibrated with emotions. A hint of fear. Full blown terror. Longing. Sorrow. A taste of arousal. Hank felt panic sinking in, but he swallowed it down. He noticed a sliver of light. A door was cracked. He pried it open and slid through.

Nick was visiting his body. He stood by the hospital bed and stared into Hank’s vacant, unconscious face. His hand a few inches from Hank’s on top of the plain blue hospital blanket. 

Hank tried desperately to get Nick attention but nothing worked. So he leaned against the wall, a couple feet from where his physical body lay, wondering what the fuck he was going to do now. 

Nick turned and left the hospital room. Hank followed. Nick walked up to the nurses’ station and said something. The pretty dark haired nurse smiled and answered. They both sounded like they were talking under water: blurp blurp blurp. Nick gently hit the counter with his palm, faked a half smile and headed for the elevator. Hank followed him just like they were working a case. The thought hit him then, that they _were_ working a case. Adam Keshales’ case. His case.

Once they were in the hospital lobby, he started to notice all this freaky shit. Sometimes people had animal faces or were straight up monsters. Hank thought these hallucinations should be freaking him out but, in this form, he mostly felt nothing. The most he could muster was a meh.

He passed through the passenger door of Nick’s truck like it was made of water, still it felt physically uncomfortable, and settled into the seat. Rather than going back to the station, Nick drove to a RV storage parking lot and parked in front of an old, silver trailer. He followed Nick inside. Dusty old books, apothecary cabinets and other oddities filled the room inside. Second wife liked antiques and everything in the room looked old. Nick, mumbling to himself, sat down and started flipping through pages as he scanned the contents. 

Hank leaned over his shoulder, trying to read the words, but the books were written in another language with simple pen drawings of mythical creatures. He put a hand on Nick’s shoulder and leaned closer. He was pretty sure that the writing was in German and could make out the odd world here and there. 

Nick’s phone rang and he answered. “Hey.” 

Whoever was on the other end of the phone call said something and Nick listened intently. 

“He’s in a coma. Get this, they think he had a severe allergic reaction to whatever he inhaled.” Nick rubbed his forehead and reached for the book. Hank stepped back, dropping his hand. Nick spoke again but it was unintelligible. Hank replaced his hand on Nick’s shoulder and suddenly understood him again.”… terpenoids. Somehow they can tell it was produced by an animal, an insect maybe. “ Pause. “Stink bug, exactly what I was thinking.”Another pause. “You don’t know a Wessen like that.” Pause. “Can you ask Rosalee? Oh, she’s probably a sleep.” Nick stood up and wandered over to the bed. “I’m at the trailer. You think you can… Yeah, thanks Monroe.” 

Nick hung up and Hank dropped his hand. He partner walked over to the bed and collapsed. Hank looked around, wishing he felt something besides numb. Suddenly, he felt a door cracking open. He closed his eyes and suddenly he was back in the dark room but he knew which dream-door belong to Nick and it strongly vibrated with desire. No, make that lust, Hank thought as he managed to open the crack wide enough to slidthrough. 

Nick was running through the woods, wearing a dark hoodie, and Hank was chasing him. Nick tripped and fell crashing to the ground. Hank was on him in a hot moment, pinning his partner to the ground and burying his face in Nick’s hair. He closed his eyes loving the way Nick smelled. His cock was hard, Hank realized, as Nick rolled over. Then they were kissing with tongues and teeth. 

They pulled back, scrambling a part, at the same time. 

“Hank?” Nick asked shocked. “I thought you were someone else.”

Hank was breathing hard, feeling everything Nick was feeling, and shaking. But then something changed and he realized Nick was starting to wake up. “Nick, Oran Gaspard” Hank grabbed his shoulders and shouted. “Remember Oran Gaspard.” 

Hank was back in the dark again. If he found, Nick, could he find someone else he knew? But how? His mind wandered. He thought of monsters and Nick and how good that kiss had been and how he’d never thought Nick might be gay before that dream. Suddenly, he was back in the trailer and numb again. All the emotions seeped out of him. 

Nick was talking to someone Hank thought he should know. Tall, broad shoulders and wearing plaid with a cardigan, everything was familiar except for his face which was fur covered. His jaw extended and his mouth boasted a scary set of teeth. He made Hank think werewolf like in the movies.

Hank couldn’t understand anything they were saying again until he touched Nick’s shoulder then their conversation suddenly became understandable. 

“…Wikipedia man. You ever think of checking the internet? Stink bugs release a cyanide compound. Terpenoids are more like cinnamon or cannabis. Or like a pheromone.” 

“But that still doesn’t tell us anything. What we know is that the Wesen is tall, maybe six four and thin with long arms and legs. Oh yeah, and he likes Bob Marley.” Nick shook his head. “For some reason, I kept thinking daddy long legs when I saw the video footage.” He continued earnestly, “I really want to catch this one, Monroe.”

“But you never saw his face.” 

“The gas station only had one working camera and that was focused on the door.” Nick paced. “The outside cameras worked just fine. The clerk saw Hank start to chase the guy down on the closed circuit tv but then they were off camera. The only identifying mark we have is a tattoo on his inner right arm. It’s some kind of writing. They’re trying to clean up the footage.” Nick rubbed his eyes. “God, I’m tired.” 

“You still up for hitting the books?” Monroe asked.

Nick nodded and they started flipping through dusty handwritten tomes. 

Hank sat on the bed watching until he fell back into black. Maybe he slept. Maybe his ghost self just needed to return to his body for a while. He didn’t understand the rules of this new existence. But when he returned to consciousness, he again found himself in the room of doors only this time it was different. The room appeared as a dimly lit posh library. Hank could’ve sworn that there was a rich carpet under his feet and each book, there were hundreds on the shelves, seemed to have a crushing weight. He felt squashed to the point of immobility.

“You should just go back to your body.” A voice told him. “It’s not good to be away from it for too long.” 

“I can’t. I’m in a coma.” Hank turned around almost 360 degree before seeing Oran Gaspard sitting in a chair. The library’s edges melted away near him and behind his chair was a beautiful back drop of a beach. Hank could even hear waves crashing against the shore. “How?”

His dreamer shrugged. “It’s not like a dream you’re having and I’m visiting. I control dreamspace.” Oran frowned. “You want music?” Suddenly reggae played. “Not your thing?” The reggae was replaced with birdsong. 

He’s showing off, Hank thought, trying to impress me. 

“I could kill you easily here.” 

But you’re not going to, Hank thought; you just want me to be afraid. “I bet you could.” Hank smiled his predator smile. He needed the younger man to feel at ease, to trust him, so he asked him something innocuous. “How young were you when you learned to do this dream thing?”

“Listen, go back to your body. You could get lost or something bigger than you might eat you.” Oran leaned forward and Hank could easily read the cursive tattoo on his arm: One Love. The words wiggled. 

What made a peace nic, Rasta turn killer? Hank silently mused then asked, “Why did you kill your step dad?”

Oran turned stony and silent. Then he looked Hank straight in the eye and said. “Adam Keshales had to die.” He shook his head with a sad smile. “Isn’t that what you wanted to hear?”

Oran opened a book and pushed Hank into someone else’s dream, must’ve been a kid’s because there was a unicorn that turned evil with flames burning around it’s hooves and chased Hank all over a warped, forested cartoon world. Somehow, Hank ended up back in the dark room of doors. He understood the message Oran was sending. He was the one with power in this world. 

Hank wondered what everyone at the station was up too? He bet they weren’t dealing with unicorns. He thought of Wu and the Captain then Wu again. He wished they could sit down, drink beer and bullshit. Wu would say something funny and…suddenly Hank was staring at a naked Wu in the shower. He started to sing as he shampooed his hair. Hank watched for a while. 

Bored with Wu. Hank thought himself to Nick’s trailer and looked at the pages of the books left open. He still couldn’t figure out how to actually touch things. The world started to spin again before everything turned black. 


	3. Up and down looking everywhere trying ti find me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank has a scuffel with a Wesen.

Earlier Friday Evening

Hank finished filling the tank, replaced the nozzle, and realized he was hungry. He’d been called out early in the morning for a homicide. This one looked like a home invasion gone wrong or at least that’s what they’d been told. Nothing had added up with what the wife of the vic was saying. Olivia Keshales’ story went like this: they’d gone to bed around eleven after watching a movie on Netflix. Sometime around three, a noise woke her. She thought someone was downstairs. So she shook her husband, Adam, awake and he’d gone downstairs to investigate. She’d stayed upstairs thinking that it was probably nothing. He shouted, scaring her, and there were sounds of a scuffle. She called 911 and, when she finally made her way downstairs, her husband lay dead in the kitchen. He’d been stabbed with a kitchen knife missing from the block on the counter.Their two young daughters slept through the whole thing.The only witness was an elderly neighbor a few houses over who saw someone in a dark jacket with a hood running through his backyard. He described the mystery man as tall and thin. 

But everything pointed to an inside job. The alarm had been disarmed. There wasn’t a sign of a break in. 

The gas station was well lit. A clerk stood behind the counter flipping through a magazine. Hank went to take a piss. When he was came out of the bathroom, he bumped into a tall gaunt faced, scraggily bearded kid that wore a kaki colored wool tam favored by Rastas and a green army surplus jacket over a black Bob Marley t-shirt. Hank bet that he had a head full of dreads under that hat. He had a busted lip and bruised cheek that said he’d run into a little bit of trouble somewhere. Hank wondered how much kids like him really knew about being a Rasta? Probably he used the whole philosophy as an excuse to smoke pot and sound enlightened. The twenty-something looked up with warm brown eyes but remained silent as he ladled chili over a couple of hot dogs which most real Rastafari would never eat. 

Hank put his hands up, “Sorry.”

The kid ignored him and proceeded to sprinkle onion on top of the chili. There was something familiar about the boy that subconsciously nagged at Hank. Grabbing a soda and a pack of cinnamon flavored gum, Hank slowly walked over to the counter as he tried to figure out what his intuition was telling him. 

Nothing big revealed itself until he opened his car door. Hank’s mind flashed to a family portrait hanging on the wall of the victim’s house. In it, a younger Olivia Keshales, her husband Adam, their daughters and her son from a previous marriage smiled at the camera. The brown haired boy’s smile seemed forced and his brown eyes looked unhappy. He had to be about ten. Hank tried to remember the boy’s name. When Hank had questioned Olivia, she’d said he was attending the University of Oregon in Eugene. He only came home for holidays. 

Hank turned around as the tall kid exited the store. Hank set the soda and gum on top of his car. He started to follow the wannabe Rasta around the corner of the gas station. The kid saw him and started to walk a little faster. 

“Hey, I just want to talk to you.”

The kid looked over his shoulder and Hank could easily read fear in his face. 

Hank suddenly remembered Olivia’s son’s name. “It’s okay Or…” He never got the “an” out before the kid was running.“Shit.”

Hank ran him down and tackled him. Then  
they were fighting on the ground and it should’ve been easy for Hank to take Oran Gaspard. He was all long legs and skinny arms. His body was way too thin, almost fragile. Fear fueled and terrorized, Oran fought like a demon. The tam fell off and dreads, like medusa’s snakes, whacked Hank in the face. When Hank finally did get the kid pinned on the ground, he noticed the damp earthy smell of mushrooms mixed with clove and cinnamon spice. Suddenly, he was enveloped in a cloud of heavy cloying scent. Hank coughed, choking on it, exhaled and then inhaled again. “What the hell…” He thought to himself as another coughing fit racked his body. Bent over, and trying to gulp in air but getting more of the scent, Hank felt his throat start to constrict. Oran pushed Hank off and crawled a few feet before getting up. Hank lay on the pavement wheezing, the scent clogged his lungs, and watched the tall thin form run away. The world blurred. 


	4. But me up in mi high, high medi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nick discovers background information on Oran and Hank spies on Renard.

Saturday Afternoon

Hank half sat on the table in the break room of a chain electronics store with his arm draped casually over his leg. Nick was questioning a friend of Oran’s who seemed to think that they were here about marijuana. 

“Sure I smoked in high school with Caleb and Oran but I’m clean now.” Simon Yao lied. “They do drug testing here.” 

Nick made his what-the-fuck-ever face and continued with the questioning. “So you haven’t seen Oran lately?”

“No.” Simon answered. “Not since he went back to Eugene after Christmas. His parents were pissed, you know about him getting that girl pregnant and dropping out of school. But it’s not like they could pay for it anymore.”

“Pay for what?”

“Tuition. When his step dad was laid off two years ago, he dipped into Oran’s college fund to pay the mortgage.” 

“How did Oran feel about that?”

“He wasn’t that surprised. His step father had always been a douche bag. His mother was pissed off though. Most of the money in the fund came from her dad’s life insurance. She tried to throw Adam out of the house but he refused to leave.” Simon nervously looked at the clock. “Look, Adam rode Oran hard when it came to grades, smoking dope, being vegan, the way he dressed, the music he listened too. If Oran liked it, Adam bitched about it. Can I get back to work?”

“Just a few more questions.”

“How much dope did you find on Oran? It’s not like he’s dealing, right?” 

“His step-dad’s dead. He was murdered early Thursday morning.”

Simon sat down in a chair. “And you think Oran did it?” He laughed harshly. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Listen, right, the only time I ever saw Oran stand up to a bully was when one went after his little sisters. Kids picked on us all the time when we were in elementary school together and later some of the kids in high school were fucking sociopaths. Oran never fought back. He hated confrontation. He’s a runaway from trouble type of guy.” 

“What if he couldn’t runaway? We believe he was trying to defend himself against Adam.” Nick probed, giving out a little information hoping to get a bigger payback. 

Simon changed topics. “His whole family is messed up. His mom left his dad when he moved the family into a tent on a friend’s farm. Oran was five; his real dad lived like a homebum for a while until he disappeared. Oh, and speaking of his mom, she bought weed for Oran. I wasn’t ever supposed to know that though. His sisters where treated like little princesses while he had to live like a troll in the basement. So if Oran was going to go homicidal I’m sure he would’ve done it when he lived there.” Simon looked down at his hands, up at Nick and then away. “He was finally happy. He had a girl he loved. They were having a baby and planning on getting married. Oran would never fuck that up.”

“You said Olivia tried to kick Adam out over the college fund but he wouldn’t leave. Why do you think she stayed with him?”  
Simon shrugged. “Beats me They worked it out, I guess.”

“Can you think of anyone else in Portland he might turn to?” 

“Um, not really. If he was in a crunch, he’d go visit his Grandmother. He lived with her for a while in high school.”

“Grandmother on his father’s side or mother’s?”

“Mother’s side. Rose Pizante. Oran never mentioned his dad having any other family.”

Hank followed Nick out to the truck. Nick laid his head back against the seat and closed his eyes. He opened them and punched the steering wheel. 

“Well, you have motive now.” Hank said but he still knew that there was more to the story. Something big must’ve pushed Oran over the edge. Maybe it was the mother. He wouldn’t leave so she had her son come home to do what? Kill him? No, that didn’t work with the evidence. The M.E. swore that the knife wounds were defensive. All the evidence suggested that Adam was the attacker. Oran had been acting in self defense. But what had Oran been doing in the house at three am without a car? That was the bigger questions. 

Back at the station: “Turns out Oran Gaspard doesn’t own a car.” Nick said to Wu. “This kid is like a ghost. He lived in a co-op but wasn’t close to anyone. His one friend in Portland has no idea where he’d go except for the Grandmother who swears she hasn’t seen him. We can’t reach the girlfriend on her phone. No one’s seen her at the dorms for the last few days. Called her parents and they say that they have no idea where she is.” Nick leaned back in his chair. “His mother insists that there was no way her son killed his stepfather but that’s where all the evidence is pointing.”

Wu cocked his head. “Did you check the girlfriend’s Facebook page?”

A little while later, Nick was reading through Sarah Green’s old updates. The dark haired girl was pretty with striking blue eyes. She dressed conservatively and usually wore a scarf or bandana over her hair. Sarah’s profile picture was of her cuddled up close to Oran. She was smiling and he had his arms around her. 

“Anything?” The Captain asked.

“No, she hasn’t updated recently but there are plenty of pictures of Oran.” He sat back and threw down his pen. “Last month, they went to his grandmother’s seventieth birthday party together. She’s even friends with his cousin Amber Morales and his Aunt Tamara but, interestingly enough, not his sisters.” 

“Today’s the Sabbath. Tomorrow, I’ll go talk to the Aunt in Aloha.” 

Time warped and Hank felt like he jumped forward. The day was over. Hank, for the hell of it, decided to follow the Captain. There was something about Renard that made it impossible for Hank to look him directly in the face. He was careful; several times Renard looked back over his shoulder as if he was aware he was being followed. Hank sat in the back of the Captain’s SUV and was surprised when he parked under an overpass. An old model Ford 150 pulled up alongside but pointed in the opposite direction. Hank gingerly reached out and, whisper soft, rested the fingers of his left hand on Renard’s shoulder. 

“Well?” Renard demanded of the man with a face like an orc from the Lord of the Rings trilogy. 

“He either knows what he’s doing or has help at hiding his trail. But there’s a pattern to his kills.”

Renard’s eyes flickered to the rearview. Hank faded into the seat but never broke contact with the Captain’s shoulder. “So, he has given into temptation.” 

“Typical motivation,” the orc man coldly began reciting facts, “The first time was when he was ten. He killed his friend’s grandfather. A couple years later there was a neighbor. A few months after that there was a guy just released from prison. One of his high school classmates dropped out of school from a nervous breakdown. In college, his first roommate flunked out. The roommate’s parents thought he was depressed because he couldn’t get out of bed to go to class. Second roommate complained to a psychologist of having out of body experiences. That’s when Gaspard moved into the co-op. There was another death of yet another neighbor. And then we come to the present.” The man paused. “You could still break the Weberkneckt. He could be an asset.” 

“No. He’d never be trustworthy. I hear the girlfriend’s pregnant. Find her and you’ll find him.”  Renard turned the SUV back on.

But the other man shook his head, “She was but isn’t anymore. She gave birth prematurely last Saturday night. Baby died Tuesday.” 

“You know what to do when you find him.” Renard pulled away.


	5. Like a bird we soar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The case is solved and Nick arrests Oran

Before Sunrise Monday

After another faied attempt to figure out how to get back in his body, Hankthought himself to Nick who was climbing into his old pickup and drove across town where patrol cars, lights on, were waiting outside of a run down house that looked like a likely squat. Nick pulled on a vest and checked his gun, then hopped out and talked to an officer who pointed towards the squat. They were clearing the house. Hank watched officers who looked liked shadows flicker past windows and others gaurding the doors. 

Amber Morales was crying in the back of one of the cop cars. Her face a bright moon illuminated by a street light sun. 

The team in the house brought out a long legged, tall man with his hands up behind his head. 

Hank walked up expecting Oran but found an older man, honey haired and light blue eyed, that had to be his father. He could see Hank and even winked as he bent down low to slid into the backseat of a patrol car. Hank didn’t have to understand Nick to know he was cursing as he threw his hands down. Oran was still out there somewhere.

Back at the station, Amber cryed harder as they waited for her parents and a lawyer. Kid was refusing to say anything. They had Oran’s father in a room for questioning. Wayne Gaspard leaned back in his chair, expressionless,blue eyes flint hard, and somehow managed to look bored. 

Nick tried to pull up hard on him. Citing warrents, the amount of weed they found in his luggage and his record. But the guy hardly blinked. 

The room rippled as Gaspard did something. Suddenly, Hank could hear everything even some of the conversations happening outside the room.He dropped his hand from Nick’s shoulder. Wayne Gaspard looked over at Hank as if to say, "look what I can do“. 

            "So they got a Grimm hunting my boy.“ Wayne Gaspard stretched his long legs out under the table. His feet stuck out the other side. 

            "He killed his stepfather.“ 

            "You can prove that?“ Wayne asked as he half listened, he was paying more attention to something happening outside the room. 

Nick layed out the physical evidence. Fingerprints. DNA. The alarm code. He leaned towards Wayne, "I think it was an accident. I want to help Oran. But I need to talk to him to be able to do that.“ Nick explained earnestly. "Look, other people are looking for Oran. A  Hasslich.”

Something flickered lightening fast across Gaspard’s face.“Your German is terrible.”  But he didn’t soften, if anything he grew harder. "How many people here know you’re a Grimm? How do you hadle something like that? Do you stay in the closet or just come on out? I bet you haven’t told anyone. But someday someone is going to realize that you’ve been doing two jobs with one badge.“

Nick pulled out a chair and sat down. "They wouldn‘t believe it even if I did tell them.“ 

Gaspard leaned in. "Do you think they’ll see it that way?“

Nick changed tactics, "What’s the marjuana for?“

"Helps us to sleep otherwise we dream. It makes the musk less potent.“ Gaspard leaned back and continued but this time he stared at Hank. "You have to understand jail isn’t a good alternative for us. Think about it. The dreams and the shit that goes on there.“ 

Nick looked over his shoulder to where Hank was standing and frowned. He obviously couldn’t see anything.

"I can get a message to Oran but it will be up to him to decide if he wants to talk to you. And, no, I don’t know where he is.“ 

"Why did Amber bring a douffle bag full of Oran’s things to your squat? There was a couple hundred dollars and a dime bag of weed in an envelope.“ 

"His family is worried about him.“ Wayne sighed. "We were planning on meeting tomorrow but hadn’t set a place yet. Oran was trying to help someone before he left; he felt responsible. But he figured that, if he hadn’t helped him by tomorrow, then he wouldn’t be able too.“

"If you don’t know where he is, then how are you going to get a message to him?“ Nick asked.

Wayne Gaspard laughed and shook his head, "You don’t know much about Weberkneckt, do you?“ 

Hank blinked and time had passed. Nick was standing in front of the Captain, reporting to him. Whatever juju Gaspard had pulled so that he could understand Nick without touching him had worn off. He touched the Captain’s arm. "So the family still swears that they have no idea where Oran is or that he’s been in contact with him. The Grandmother says that she had a contact number for his father and called him after we started looking at Oran for Keshales murder.“ 

"And the father?“

"His bus rolled into town yesterday afternoon. He says...“ Nick was still talking when Hank blanked out again this time resurfacing to consiousnes in the room of doors.He wasn’t sure how long he was out. He looked down at his hand and realized the molecules were difting apart causing him to be semi transparent. Not a good sign. He tried calling to Oran but there wasn’t an answer. He paced around his hospital room but urgancy to solve the case gnawed at him.

Finaly, he gave up and flashed to Nick.

Nick was sitting at a rectangular table. He tried to refuse coffee but the elegant dark haired woman inisisted. "Yes, I am Sarah’s cousin on her mother’s side. This has been so sad and she felt like she was suffocating in that house. I don’t think she could proporly mourn.“She chatted as she poured the coffee into a floral mug.

Sarah, ghost pale and dressed in an oversized gray sweater that Hank suspected was Oran’s, walked over to the table. Her dark hair hung limp and unwashed around her shoulders. She pulled out a chair and sat down. "You have some questions for me?“ 

Nick started with less obvious questions feeling her out then when they wanted to know why he was asking, he told them about Adam Keshales. 

"I thought this was about drugs. Oran gets hasseled sometimes.“ Sarah started quietly weeping. "He was upset. We had a fight. We didn’t have money for the bauriel so we had to borrow some from my family. He felt bad about it. Somehow everything exploded and things...“ she cried harder now, "awfull things were said. He left saying that he would pay the money back. He was going to sell something but he didn’t have it on him.“ Her cousin sat down in the chair beside Sarah‘s and threaded her fingers through the grieving woman’s. "Oran’s spiritual. There are a lot of guys who say that they’re spiritual but they’re not. They’re religious. They just go through the motions. But Oran understands the meaning of things. He’s different. He doesn’t fight back. He just shuts down. Listens to some music. Smokes some pot. Prays or meditates.“

"Maybe life became too much for him and this time he had to fight back.“ Her cousin tried to comfort her. "You said that you believe it was self defense?“ She asked Nick. 

"That’s right.“ Nick reasured her. 

They talked a while longer. Nick brusquely said good bye, a little uncomfortable, and Hank turned around from the wall of photos he was studying. Sarah walked Nick to the door and opened it. 

"It’s my fault.“ She told Nick. "I said something unforgivable to Oran.“

"What did you say?“ Nick asked.

"You wouldn’t understand.“ She whisered. 

"Look, I understand that Oran is different from other people, if that’s what this was about.“ Nick confided. 

"The doctors kept talking about deformities...“ She looked ill. "When we were arguing, I told Oran the baby died because she was like him. You have no idea what his life’s been like.He hasn’t talked to me since. If you find him, tell him I didn’t mean it. I wasn’t thinking right.“ 

Nick offered something soothing, because she needed it not because he believed it, and walked towards his truck. 

In a small grove of trees across from the small bungalo, Nick spotted movement and started running towards it. Hank folllowed close on his heels . "Oran Gaspard?“ Nick called out. 

Oran stepped out from behind a chestnut tree. In real life, he was paler and skinner than Hank remembered. His dreads were piled on top of his head and he had his army jacket zipped up. His lip had healed but his cheek still wore a faint bruise. „So I hear you want to talk to me?“ 

Nick walked up to him slowly the way he would approach a wild animal. "Yeah, I just want to hear your side of the story.“

Oran scanned the houses behind them, then seeing something, said to Nick, "I killed him. I threw the knife in a dumpster. I can show you where.“ He turned around with his arms behind him so Nick could cuff him.

Nick phoned for a patrol car and started walking Oran towards the street.

When they hit asphalt, a flaming arrow, seemingly out of no where, burned past Nick and lodged itself in Oran’s throat. He gurgled then collapsed as he lit up like a bonfire, something, probably the musk, causing him to burn hotter and brighter than a normal human.

All the pieces in Hank’s puzzel clicked into place. He understood now, more than he wanted too. But Hank did nothing. There was nothing he could do.He watched feeling distant and disconected as Oran burned, as cop cars and ambulances came screaming, too late to the rescue, as a hysterical Sarah faught Nick and her cousin to get to Oran, as neighbors trickeled out to front porches. And when Oran was a pile of bone and ash, they carefully swept his remains up into a bag

Hank felt nothing. 

Time flickered and sped up. Nothing that happened mattered anymore. Hank was fading; he felt it

Nick had found a carved wood box in a backpack that Oran had left in the woods with three 5ml bottles of musk in it.Rosalee priced each one at about $500 maybe more if it was pure, meaning he hadn’t been smoking pot. Hank doubted that it was pure. So, the case was solved. They had found what Oran had snuck home in the middle of the night to get. He even knew who had killed Oran and who had ordered it. 


	6. Burn it up galore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank's spirit returnes to his body.

Around Midnight Monday

            "You think you’re ready now?“ A new voice asked Hank as Wayne Gaspard shimmered into being. Hank had a feeling that he shimmered on purpose simply because he could. 

            "Did you know?“ Hank asked Wayne.

            "If I did, I would’ve stopped it.“ Wayne answered. "How about you? Did you know?“

Hank shook his head and looked away out the window at the city lights twinkling in darkness. "Not in time. What could I have fucking done anyways?“ He paused. "The world seems different now that he’s gone.“

            "I need you to stand by your body.“ Wayne ordered. 

Hank crossed the room and stood where Wayne pointed. The man grabbed a hold of him and shoved him into his body. It hurt. He was weighed down and drowning at the same time. Quickly, he lost consiousness. He woke sometime later feeling strangly solid to beeping machines, a sore throat from the tube that had been shoved down it, and a nurse checking his vitals. 

            "Welcome back.“ The nurse smiled. 

Hank went back under. He woke up disoriented and suddenly aware that everyone he trusted was lying to him. Nick obviously hadn’t even bothered to try and explain the Grimm thing to him. In fact, he straight up lied to him and let him feel that he was crazy after the whole bigfoot incident. Plus, he had his sidekick Monroe. The captain had his own agenda which included hit men. Hank had always suspected that something had been up with Renard and those coins. Now, he was sure. 

Hank seethed. All the lost emotion returning as brightly flaming pure rage. Somehow, when Nick came into the room, he manged to smile. Inside, he felt steel hard and alone. What happened shouldn’t have happened. 

 


	7. Are you really sure you can burn one more?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue

Sometime between Thursday and Monday

Time flowed quickly and Hank lost track of everything that was happening. Maybe he blinked and passed out or time sped up. Hank didn’t know and didn’t really care. He found himself in the black room turned library sitting beside Oran and watching a fire burn in an elaborately sculpted marble fireplace. 

“You’re stepfather sounds like a real jerk.” Hank offered. 

Oran snorted.

“Weren’t you ever tempted to get back at the bullies?” Hank tried a different line of questioning. “You could mess with their dreams.”

Oran smiled. “Maybe.” He moved his bishop. “What you have to understand is that there are many fish in the sea. I am just a medium sized fish that feeds on plankton. There are some really big fish out there, one hundred percent predators, who feed on fish like me. It’s better to stay off the radar.” 

“What like sharks?”

“Some. Others are like kings.You either work for them or you’re dead. Who wants someone that can spy on their dreams running around free?” Oran waited. “Dreams serve a purpose. They help people deal with all the fucked upness in their lives.”

“Why hot dogs?” Hank contemplated. “As a Rasta Jew isn’t that a double pork no no.”

“I was really, really hungry and broke. And they were selling two for a dollar.”

Hank laughed, smiling.

Oran smiled back


	11. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The plot thickens and Hank has an encounter with the Captain.

Early Sunday morning

Hank nervously looked down at a sleeping Nick curled around Juliette. He waited for REM to kick in. The door appeared, this time radiating fear and agitation. Hank slipped through the crack. His heart started pounding and his shoulders tensed. His palms felt damp as he looked around trying to find the source of the danger. 

A lion headed man jumped Nick in that warehouse fight club they busted up a while back. Nick fought him off while other creature people emerged from the shadows. Nick kept fighting but was on his knees when Hank got to him. The dream rippled and his partner’s assailants disappeared.

“Hank? You keep showing up.” Nick stood, bloodied and winded.

“I know. I’m trapped in the dreamscape. Listen ‘cause you’re probably going to wake up soon, Oran is a  Weberkneckt.“ Hank repeated himself. “Oran Gaspard is a Weberkneckt and if he shows up in your dreams wake up. You listening Nick?“

Nick woke up and Hank was sent straight back to the room of doors. Again numb as fuck. The loss of emotions hurt as only emptiness can. You know that there is something that you are missing, an amputated limb that aches, in the place where it once was attached. Hank shook it off. Still too much to do. 

So far the Captain seemed to be further along with his investigation than Nick. And why wasn’t he sharing? Also, what was this ‘you know what to do’ crap? There was no way Captain Renard actually approved a hit on a perp. That thought was too mind blowing to be real. 

Without realizing it, Hank thought sent himself right to Renard’s darkened bedroom where the shadows completely hid the Captain’s face. A dream door appeared and vibrated with emotional intensity of an F5 tornado. It seethed of ice cold rage but there was power there. Dark. Delicious. Irrestible power. The power called and Hank, too numb to fear, slipped into Renard’s dreamscape. 

Hank stood watching a young Renard curled up in a room eaten away by shadows. Whatever was behind the desk scarred him shitless and Hank felt himself trembling. Suddenly Renard the boy cocked his head towards where Hank was standing. 

“I’ve been waiting.” Renard, now grown, grabbed Hank and slammed his face into his desk back at the station. “Did you honestly think you can fuck with my mind?” He jerked Hank’s head up and then slammed it back down hard against the wood. 

Hank hadn’t been prepared for the pain. He literally saw stars and his jaw ached. He managed to fight Renard off. But the Captain came back swinging. Hank found himself almost doubled over clutching the edge of the desk. He spit out blood. Silently he chanted, “wake up, wake up…” But Renard didn’t. The feeling of the dream subtly changed. Renard was getting turned on which meant Hank was getting turned on as he siphoned off the Captain’s emotions.

Hank blocked a blow to the face and took another to the gut. He winced. “You win. I’ll leave.” Hank wasn’t sure how but he would sure as hell would find a way. 

“I don’t think so.” Renard walked the two steps to Hank. “Tell me what I want to know and I’ll make this not hurt quite as bad.” 

Hank laughed, not so much at the lameness of the overused line, but because what else could he do. He didn’t know how to leave. In fact, he wasn’t even sure exactly what the fuck was going on. He kept on laughing. “Go ahead. Give me all you got.”

And gets a good blow to his cheek. His head flys back. Spit sprays. 

So Hank changes tactics. He feels that slow groan of arousal getting louder. Maybe it’s the pain. Maybe it’s the power. But something excites the Captain. So when Renard is just within arm’s reach, Hank reaches out and grabs his head. He slams their faces together in a rough kiss along the diagonal. 

Renard takes over, kissing and biting. His tongue suddenly in Hank’s mouth and the violence makes them both hot. The flash of pleasure/pain flares between them. So fucked up. Hank thinks as he threads his fingers through the Captain’s soft black hair as he tongue fucks his mouth. Oh God, he’s suddenly so hard and aching. He manages to pin Renard against a wall he can’t see. He grinds his hips against the Captain who, legs spread, rides his thigh. His mouth free, he bites a trail down the other man’s throat. Renard tugs his head up and he allows it. The Captain moans into Hank’s mouth then bites his lip till it’s bloody. Fingers dig like claws into his shoulder. 

Hank’s thrown off and pushed down. 

Renard tugs his shirt off then starts unzipping his pants. His breath coming in harsh gulps. His face still obscured but his beautiful body shimmering with sweat. Suddenly, Hank knows how this is going to end and isn’t even sure he really wants it. Probably he just thinks he wants it because Renard is so damn aroused that Hank is afraid he’s going to cum in pants. But Hank doesn’t care. He just get’s naked. Then Renard is on top of him: biting him hard at the base of his neck; laving his nipples with his tongue; making his way down Hank’s body to his cock. He grabs a hold and licks from base to tip before sucking the mammoth hard on into his mouth. He moves up and down, swirling his tongue across the cum beading on the head, and, just when Hank felt his balls tightening,he shoves two fingers into Hank’s mouth. Hank sucks and prepares to be fucked. But that’s not what happens. Renard balances on his knees and palms his own dick. He gives a few good tugs then slowly reaches between his legs to finger his hole. The sight is so hot that Hank groans. Renard growls and inserts a second finger, slowly stretching himself. Hank grips his Captain’s hip with one hand and slowly reaches forward with the other to slowly run his palm over dick. He wants to say something like, “I don’t know how long I can wait,” but doesn’t because he is afraid of ruining the mood. Renard inserts a third finger and stretches then slowly impales himself on Hank’s cock, balancing on his knees and toes. And because this is a dream they don’t need lube or condoms or anything like that which makes it so much hotter. Renard’s hole is burning hot , moist and tight. The muscles constrict and it feels so good but not as good as when Renard starts to move, up and down, up and down. And Hank’s fingers dig into his hips and he likes the sounds Renard’s making. And he’s making sounds too, grunting in some type of harmony to Renards moans. It feels so good to feel. It feels so good to feel. Even if it isn’t true. Up and down. “Sean.” He says. The name he never calls the Captain. “Sean, I’m coming.” And he does in what feels like apocalyptic spurts in the Captain’s ass. But the captain keeps riding and jerking himself off until his back arches. He moans something in German, cumming all over Hank’s abs and even up on his chest. 

Then Renard slides off and somehow ends up half sitting next to Hank. His head hangs low, still breathing hard. He’s in shock, Hank thinks. The Captain lost control. 

“Go. Just go.” Renard orders. His face always obscured. A ripple of something akin to sadness moves through the dream. Regret maybe.

Hank stands and searches for his dream clothes before he realizes how ridiculous that is.“Listen…” Hank starts.

The Captain stands up and wraps his hand around Hank’s jugular. “Don’t fucking talk to me.” Renard squeezes until Hank feels himself spinning as he momentarily black outs and ends up back by his body in the hospital.

“Did you like what happened?” Oran asks from where he’s sprawled in a standard issue hospital recliner, pissing Hank off. 

“Were you watching, Oran?”

“There are some people you shouldn’t mess with. Some things need to be left alone.” Oran smirks. “You got off lightly. Or maybe you’re just happy you got off at all.”

“I found out some things about you, seems like your step father wasn’t your first time killing someone.” 

“Things happen in dreams. It’s hard to always be in control.”

“Why don’t you explain it to me?” 

“Imagine being a kid. Then imagine there is some sick fuck that gets off on raping and hurting kids. You are there with him in the dream. You watch him enjoy it knowing all the nightmares the kid is having because you can feel them. Feel that kid hurting. But you can stop it. What other choice is there?” Oran shook his head. 

“So you’re some type of vigilante?!”

“I was ten. He was raping my friend. Do you understand anything? You chose this fucked up life. I was born into it. And I’m tired, so fucking tired, of all the sick shit that never goes away.” Oran pointed at him, his blue eyes burning impossibly brighter. The tattoo crowned lion roared and snarled. “Do you even know who you fucked right now? No, I didn’t think so. You are a blind man running around in circles trying to understand how the sky is blue when you can’t even begin to image what blue is. So get back in your body ‘cause next time I will not be around to save your sorry ass.”

Hank didn’t know what to say to that so he says, “I don’t know how.”

“Figure it the fuck out.” Oran sneers, his lion tattoo settles back into place, and with a shake of his dread head he disappears. 

The numb doesn’t come back until a few minutes after Oran’s vanishing act. That empty ach is almost unbearable as Hank fights to remember feeling: the bright pleasure of Renard rocking on top of him; the lightening flash of pain of fist hitting jaw; the sharp edged ache of remorse.

Oran was right all of this was going on too long.

Hank tried lying down on top of his body, willing himself to sink into the half living flesh, but nothing happened. He tried to imagine what it was like to be corporeal. Still nothing. Eventually, he gave up, went to sleep or blacked out. 

The sun was starting to rise when Hank, still a ghost, returned to consciousness. He watched a nurse give his body a sponge bath which was totally not the sexy experience he always imagined it would be. 

She whispered to an aid, “Sometimes this happens.” 

The compulsion to solve the case returned which would’ve surprised Hank if he could feel. There were still two things he didn’t know. First, why had Oran Gaspard returned home at three am Friday and, second, why did he kill stepfather. The thoughts rattled around, sticking him with thorny what ifs and hollow what goes around comes arounds. He wondered if Nick had found anything new and what the fuck the Captain was up to now. 

Nick as it turned out was having morning coffee with Monroe. 

“Juliette thinks you’re interviewing the Aunt?” Monroe who still wore his werewolf face refilled his own cup.

“I am after. Hank was in my dream last night. Said he was trapped in a dreamscape. He also mentioned something else a  Weberkneckt?“

Monroe palm slapped his forhead.“Oh, dude, this is so not good. Weberkneckt are virtualy extinct for a reason.“ 

„Yeah? Why?“

“First of all they spray this smell, dude, drives Wesen crazy. I’ve personally never encountered one but my grandfather used to tell this story about his uncle and how he was out hunting when he came across a  Weberkneckt. He got sprayed, went home and killed his entire family. The smell is like hallucnigenic. Witches go crazy for a little tiny dram of the stuff. They use it in some pretty powerfull  Zaubertranks.”Monroe sips his coffee, obviously thinking. “ Weberkneckt is also German for Harvestman spider.“

„So we’re after another spider?“ Nick asked to make sure he hadn’t zigged when he should’ve zagged.

„No.“ Monroe continued with his lecture. „Weberkneckt are suppose to look kind of like Harvestmen but they’re not spiders. Very tall, long limbs, square jaws with round kind of bug eyes. Oh and they have this gills, well they’re not really gills, just under the jaw.“ 

Bored because he knew all of this, Hank flashed to Renard’s office. The Captain was talking to a dark suited troll in his office. The troll had a hand on his hip, under his suit jacket showing off an FBI badge attached to his belt. 

Hank rested his fingers on the troll’s shoulder. The tall man shivered but kept talking.“We lost Gaspard a couple years ago. He fell off the map but we believe he still has contacts with some of the Mexican gangs.” 

“I understand you’re on a drug task force Agent Zelkmann and I am also aware of Gaspard’s arrest record but why don’t you tell me why you’re really after him?” Renard stared the other man down.

“He’s a  Weberkneckt that should be a good enough reason.“ The troll smiled maliciously but continued, “If you remember, there was a bit of trouble in Chicago about twenty five years ago. A  Weberkneckt named Casper Wendale lived under the protection of certain people and we believe that he acted as an enforcer. After the trouble, he disappeared. I believe the Wayne Gaspard and Casper Wendale are the same person. And if the son is in trouble than the father is going to come running.” 

„If in the course of our investigation we come across Wayne Gaspard, I will let you know but right now I am primarily concerned with apprehending a murder suspect.“

„Understood. I hope you don’t mind if I question a few of my own sources?“ 

„As long as it doesn’t hinder our investigation.“ 

“Of course.” 

Zelkmann left. Renard stood and stared out the window. He pulled out his cell, pushed a button, and waited for the other party to pick up. “We have another complication. There is a Hasslich named Zelkmann hunting Oran Gaspards’ father. We need to end this quickly. ” 

Hank blacked out and when he focused on Nick he was sitting in a sunken living room on a cranberry colored overstuffed sofa. A woman who looked like an older, heaver version of Olivia Keshales was sipping a cup of coffee. Tamara Morales anxiously rolled the hem of her cardigan between thumb and finger; her eyes red rimmed, she was obviously upset as she talked. Hank moved his hand to Nick’s arm.

“…Girls liked Oran but he didn’t really notice. He’s always been a dreamer. So, yes we were surprised but not as surprised as her family. They are very conservative. Sarah dated Oran for over a year and they didn’t know until the pregnancy.” Tamara accepted the framed photograph of the whole extended Keshales/Morales/Pizante family from Nick as he handed it back to her. She stared sadly down into the smiling faces and, with new resolve, set the frame down on the coffee table.“I think Oran is dealing with a lot right now. He was looking for a place for them to live together as a family in Eugene but his job wasn’t paying well. Then the baby…” Her voice cracked and she closed her eyes as she collected herself. “Then they lost the baby. I honestly don’t know why he would’ve gone home. If he wanted comfort, he would’ve come here or to my mother’s. Olivia didn’t even come to the burial for the baby. My mother called and invited Olivia to ride with us. But she made some excuse. And the Green’s. They were so cold to Oran. I hated seeing him so alone, so broken.” 

A door slammed closed, quick footsteps and a dark haired boy, maybe about ten, came running around the corner. He stopped short when he saw Nick. “We’re home.” He said quietly. 

His sister and grandmother turned the corner.

Rose Pizante had the same golden brown eyes that Oran had but was short and round where he was tall. Still there was something else about her, maybe the way she held herself that reminded Hank of Oran. She said something to the teenage girl. 

Amber reached for brother, “Come on. Let’s go play video games in my room.” 

Hank blinked and time skipped forward. 

Nick was standing up to leave, handing the grandmother a card, “I only want to talk to Oran and get his side of the story.”

“I told you I haven’t seen him.” The grandmother fiercely stared Nick down. Tamara wouldn’t look at him. 

Goodbyes were exchanged and Hank left with Nick. 

“If they’re not hiding him then they know where he is.” Hank told Nick, aware that he couldn’t hear him. “Damn this is bad.”

Nick called the Captain and he agreed to have a car watch the house. Then he drove from the suburbs into downtown to that strange spice and tea shop. Nick walked in to be greeted by Monroe and Rosalee. 

“So, what’s going on?” Nick asked. 

“A Hasslich came in earlier. He was asking questions about  Weberkneckt. Had any been in lately trying to sell musk? Did we have musk for sale that type of thing.“ Rosalee answered.

Monroe chimed in.“He was carrying a badge, Nick. I think you need to find this guy quickly.“

Hank thought himself to the room of doors. Oran had too many people on his trail. Nick. The Captain’s henchman. Zelkmann. Someone was going to catch him.

The doors with all the emotions behind them called to Hank. He wondered if there was a way to track Oran down in the dreamspace. 


End file.
